Dust on Victory Road
by charizardpal1
Summary: This story takes place with Ash considering his options the evening before the start of the Hoenn League. Can he muster the internal stength to become a champion?


Dusk on Victory Road

Ash Ketchum proudly ventured from his quaint birthplace of dusty  
Pallet Town, Kanto at the young age of ten, on a quest to catch and  
train Pokemon; his means for attaining fame. During the next four  
years, Ash would register to compete in three major pokemon leagues;  
Kanto's Indigo Plateau, the Orange Islands League, and the Johto  
Silver Conference. Ash was recognized as one of the top sixteen  
trainers during his second eleventh year in Kanto, and during the  
following year won a golden champion trophy while traversing the  
Orange Islands. Ash won second place in a whirl islands competition,  
and then defeated his former rival, Gary, at the Silver Conference.  
This triumph earned Ash respect and a place among that years top eight  
Johto pokemon trainers, including Harrison, a trainer from Little Root  
Town who would overcome Ash in the second round championship.

The name of Ash Ketchum now carried recognition due to his  
numerous television appearances. But Ash refused to return to  
adulation for his minor pokemon deeds, and the boredom that  
characterized his hometown. Ash's thoughts remained fixated on the  
adventures from pokemon training, and Ash still felt he needed to  
prove his worth.

After the tournament Ash encountered Harrison, and soon both were  
talking about their hometowns. Both descriptions were almost  
identical; a barely populated suburb connected by dirt roads and  
trees. The differences between the towns were superficial, such as  
Wingulls flying over Hoenn palm trees, as to Pidgeys resting  
underneath oaks.

Ash however, struggled when orientating using Harrison's terms,  
partly because Ash had often daydreamed about returning home, perhaps  
marching victorious among admirers after conquering masters, and  
neglected geography. Therefore everything Harrison told Ash was new  
information to him, even the existence of the research  
island-continent named Hoenn.

Harrison endorsed traveling there, and Ash agreed that he would  
like to observe and conqueror Hoenn's trainers. Deciding his earlier  
pokemon experiences using Kanto and Johto pokemon lent an advantage  
Ash, Ash decided his pokemon might confuse any identically aged native  
trainers. Yet Ash also desired Hoenn pokemon for use in future  
leagues, concluding that bringing all his trained Pokemon would simply  
deter him from catching new ones. Therefore Ash decided to take only  
his Pikachu along, but he intended to transfer his best pokemon to a  
Hoenn pokemon center, so that he could re-train them on the new  
continent, before the steadily approaching Hoenn P. League started.

Upon receiving adequate money from Ash's mom, Delia, Ash  
chartered a boat from Kanto to Hoenn, whereupon he would link up with  
Brock, May, and Max. Ash registered for the league, and three months  
later, was camped beside his pikachu for the last night before  
reaching the League's Pokemon Center.

One week before the competition, Ash Ketchum hopes for more  
remembrance than a one-time Champion Trainer. Even while still a  
child, Ash has dreamt of becoming the greatest Pokemon Master ever!

Ash Ketchum was now propped against a sapling, and sitting  
cross-legged in front of a small fire-pit Brock had been cooking rice  
cakes on. Max, May, and Ash had pitched camp 50 yards from an old  
maroon cobblestone road, alone in a League maintained campground. A  
spruce grove lent Ash a sapling to lean against, while May slumbered  
on the soil beside Ash's Pikachu, each creature warmed by one's own  
sleeping bag, and laying their heads on cushioned backpacks against  
the fire.

Brock towered expressionlessly above the campfire and kept his  
chin tilted up so his eyes would be shadowed while he told a  
frightened Max a tall-tale about how he and his onix had defeated a  
young girl's gengar, thereby winning the match, only to be cursed by  
the trainer to always pursue hopeless loves. Because Brock had often  
told his six younger brothers in Pewter City about his gym matches,  
retelling his adventures to Max felt natural to him. Ash however, had  
heard the story before, and hardly listened. The night breeze was  
cool and Ash thought little about leaving the others before pushing  
himself to his feet, in preparation for an evening walk.

"Ash where are you going?" Brock had paused, because Ash had  
risen, and turned to face away toward the north. Ash didn't really  
want to respond; images of victory, and successful ambitions burned in  
his retinas. "I just need to find a bathroom, I'll be back shortly,"  
Ash said briefly. Ash then started traversing the mowed grasses  
between some large Oaks, and began to consider his plans.

Meanwhile Brock resumed narrating, now falling from reality,  
relating a fictional rematch, made seemingly real by the master  
storyteller's enthusiasm. Max was riveted by Brock's story and  
neither of them saw Pikachu awaken.

Brock's deep voice and his lively acting had helped Pikachu into  
consciousness, whereupon it felt empty. It stood, and looked around,  
whereupon it smelled Ash's scent. Bounding over the shrubs and  
through dim woods, it ambled into a large grassy moonlit clearing;  
enclosed by dark trees.

Pikachu's dilated eyes peered across the expanse, and identified  
Ash, even by the quarter moon's. But the creature didn't immediately  
follow.

Far away, Ash quietly observed the stars of the late night sky;  
appreciating the still surroundings. He realized that in two more  
days there would be little rest, and private planes would choke these  
perfect skies. Again, Ash felt the predomination of a mysterious  
trepidation, made more acute by the observation of those beautiful,  
ancient stars so full of hope. Staring up he felt disquieted that all  
his future dreams at hand, and this time within closer actualization  
than ever before. Indeed, everything was ready now; his mindset, his  
pokemon, and a strong background of experiences. And slowly lapsing  
into daydream, Ash began to consider an unknown thought; whether he  
held worthy dreams to fulfill besides seizing the final golden trophy.

Ash knew that he should turn a blind eye to these doubts which  
held the potential to profuse indecision and thereby defeat in the  
league, but he couldn't help but reason of their ultimate  
significance, in the epilogue, and the days following what Ash  
promised himself was an inevitable victory.

Ash's experiences had made him nearly accustomed to feeling  
alone before crowd pressure, and judge scrutiny. His greatest  
strategic worries before a new battle were always of the unexpected;  
new pokemon, unique moves, or some dangerous strategy from a foreign  
trainer. There were also irrational fears, one of which was the  
possibility of fainting while hovering over the trainer box.  
Similarly, a critical pokemon could embarrass him by collapsing before  
a battle. Ash wanted a victory to be free from such shame. The  
anxiety weighted on his shoulders, and thoughts about the future  
battles in a foreign land overwhelmed him.

In an effort to restore his confidence, Ash relived his past  
battles, fought both against friends and strangers. The league  
battles always started with Ash physically separated from his Pokemon,  
and standing in the greenroom, a few feet from the stadium entrance.  
Ash would await his cue while trying to suppress his latest worries.  
Suddenly speakers would boom Ash's name, and from that moment on, Ash  
would try to forget about the crowds and simply step into the  
stadium's limelight. Watched by a hundred thousand eyes, Ash would  
peer through the noon glare, and find his position.

Everything was organized; even the weather could expected to be  
sunny, because of location, and the League's refusal to hold  
championships during bad weather. But there would always be some  
variations, and focus was necessary for exploitations. Ash always  
tried to sum up his opponent before pick his opening strategy-all  
possibilities been thought through the night before.

Now ready, Ash would watch, as the field was chosen and his cue  
given. In a single throw Ash's destiny was beared upon the field,  
and his dreams flew in the arc; planned, although unforeseeable.

Finally a judge would conclude the contest with a single hand  
gesture, and the audiences' applauses would deafen Ash in either  
victory or defeat. Suddenly realizations would come that Ash had  
passed his crisis. He would now be ceremoniously ushered from the  
stadium to talk with his friends and prepare for the next challenges.

All of these remembered feeling were secret; silently understood  
by trainers, but impossibly incomprehensible for non-trainers, who  
sometimes had trouble appreciating the extent to which, hope drove the  
world. Achieving a little comfort remembering this enduring  
brotherhood; regardless of ultimate results, Ash resumed exploring the  
camp's perimeter. Moving slower than during yesterday's rambles, Ash  
intended to relax his tired muscles, and appreciate his surroundings.  
The walks had became steadily easier since he'd first set out, and  
tomorrow the four travelers would have a room inside the pokemon  
center for respite.

Listening to the soundless night, Ash suddenly heard soft  
feet treading the spongy grass, and turned around in time to watch his  
Pikachu scamper toward him. Ash stilled his movements, and Pikachu  
upped his gait, using its speed to move up to Ash's sleeve by a single  
leap, thereby grabbing the front of Ash's shirt, and then by some fast  
movements, crawl into a more comfortable perch over Ash's left  
shoulder. Clawing Ash's protruding ball cap, the critter twisted it  
backwards, and playfully spoke its name. Ash felt no animosity at  
the interruption toward the welcome familiar, and quietly resumed his  
strides, sometimes asking his Pikachu if it wanted a ride to, and a  
view of any tree, or mound. Thereby they continued beyond the  
clearing around tree groves and grassy plains with little regard to  
their direction.

Perhaps ten minutes from the clearing, Ash and Pikachu found a  
wide cobblestone road, of an ancient sort now, that wound between  
bushes and under beautiful progressing open gates made from a Mahoney  
wood. These arches were shaped like the mathematical pie symbol, and  
continued along at distances of perhaps 200 feet, presumably leading  
the final stretch into Ever Grande Island's pokemon league. Beside the  
arches were vast flower fields extending beside the arches, and even  
occasional fountains; consisting of either metal or cut stone, and  
ornamented with various pokemon. Ash, becoming conscious of the time,  
had been considering turning back to advert worry, but had persisted  
through a thin grove of artificially planted bamboo shoots, following  
the sound of those lapping waters. Even at night, and with no  
lighting or apparent watchers, these gardens remained, a sight  
momentarily beheld by just Ash and his pikachu, seemingly maintained  
for them alone.

"These gardens are amazing! We'll have to bring Brock and theothers here tomorrow, they must cost a fortune for the league  
donors to maintain." Pikachu murmured its agreement with Ash's words,  
and although beginning to want to return to camp, sensing Ash's  
longing to linger, kept silent, as to let Ash naturally clear his  
qualms by easy time. It had used a similar technique the nights  
before battles beside moon reflecting lakes on Mount Silver, at the  
beaches by lapping waves before a hundred island completions, and even  
while talking in the trees the day before Ash left Pallet Town, this  
time for Hoenn. The level of understanding between Ash and his  
pokemon was strongest with Pikachu, and always made the two the most  
dependable combination possible in an unexpected situation.

As Ash's longest trained pokemon, Pikachu could have been  
ranked at level 89 on that night, with level 100 being the highest  
ability achievable by an individual pokemon, just as a black belt is  
believed to posses the greatest degree of skill possible for him in  
his art. But neither of the two could have realized this, since  
pokemon were rarely rated on this level scale accurately, and Ash  
hadn't rated his pikachu since it was, perhaps level 12 when he first  
started in Kanto. No one could have guessed that young Ash was  
entering the Hoenn competition with the highest leveled pokemon still  
surviving outside of myth. Not that a single pokemon is ever enough  
to win at the league, but the mostly unknown Ash Ketchum was actually  
supported by pokemon far stronger than he or they realized.

Ash still felt doubts that he'd need to remove before joining  
the pressure inside the league, and he desperately tried to find some  
external affirmation of his past achievements, and of his purpose,  
considerably questionable now that his official rival had quit.  
Looking around, Ash sighted the nearest fountain and walked toward it.  
Over the mounds embedded with flowers, Ash followed smooth stones  
along a grassy lawn. Approaching the fountain he wondered why  
admiring the Charizard ornament should be so necessary before entering  
the league. Sure, the white marble Charizard stuck a fearsome pose,  
with its wings whittled realistically by the sculptor so as to extend  
veins toward the viewer. But Ash thought he found something more  
personal within the statue, a sort of familiarity with not only the  
pokemon, but seemingly his master trainer too, and the person who had  
decreed the statue be built. The piece made him feel acquainted, as  
though meeting someone a friend had told him about years ago.

Actually Pikachu thought the think just intimidating, but didn't  
recognize the glory or the essence the maker had tried to carve into  
its fierce dragon eyes. Jumping off of Ash's shoulder, Pikachu  
pounced upon the thing's nose, and then bounded onto its head, where  
it reclined comfortably. Water tumbled from the pedestal at the  
Charizard's feet, a pleasant sound for the Pikachu while it admired  
nature's more appealing art, a dark garden filled with yellow, pink  
and blue flowers of different shapes.

Ash mistook this mere disinterest as a greater apathetic toward  
the values of the artist. "I think this statue is impressive, and the  
model must have been very inspiring. Hey look, there's a plaque at  
the base. It reads: this statue commemorates Sam Oak's Lucnight, the  
elegant champion pokemon from the Evergrande competition of 1988."  
Donated by Steven Stone, 2004.

Upon finishing the bronze plaque Ash skimmed over a glass  
protected paper outside the fountain. Accordingly the pokemon was the  
first pokemon of the trainer, then a charmander. It grew up under his  
supervision and demonstrated innovative attacks that never missed.  
Although the Hoenn league was smaller then, and Sam later lost his  
title and thereafter retired, many knowledgeable old-timers still name  
Sam as the intelligent, decisive trainer of his time. Afterwards  
Sam's techniques were emulated and his league contributions would be  
lost to the younger crowd. However, in Evergrande all first-place  
trainers are commemorated, and, according to the guide, perhaps no  
pokemon or trainer better deserved tranquil peace and recognition.

Sam Oak's enduring advice to trainers: "…battle with maturity,  
confidence, and appreciation for your pokemon and yourself. Our  
determination with understanding of the other's intentions  
orchestrated our victories."

Because of Ash's fast skimming he hardly registered the name  
initially, and indeed may not have ever realized his relation to the  
trainer, except for a small picture at the bottom of the page. It was  
a picture of the award ceremony; Ash didn't recognize the silver or  
bronze trophy winners. But the foremost golden trophy carrier was a  
brown haired, black-eyed teenager, resembling Ash, with a few extra  
years. Unlike the other winners, he was plainly dressed. Ash  
recognized him as his friend Sammy Oak instantly.

"Whoa!" Ash exclaimed, shocked that his mystery acquaintance he  
had met through a Serebi had went on to win first in the Ever Grande  
League finals. Immediately he called his Pikachu over to share the  
find. They stood their admiring the almost subtle pleasure on the  
expressionless face. Suddenly Ash had a new rival; he would surpass  
this man, alive or dead as he may be. Not only would he win this  
tournament, he would also show style and professional efficiency as he  
could, and prove he was no amateur.

Ash envisioned a bright day, with confetti falling, trumpets  
flaring, and his inner-worth displayed as he received a golden trophy  
from the League President. "We're gonna win right? Better than Sam  
won alright?"

His pikachu replied in its language, "Fine, we'll win the  
world once. But only once, and afterward we'll be done battling, and  
it will be time to stop, and move on. No pride can safely sustain a  
man's determination over the later years. Whether you accept  
retirement or not will be your choice. But after a final win, I  
intend to stop battling, and rest someplace for a while. Its not  
necessary to prove yourself indefinitely to the world."

Ash pondered Pikachu's attitude, which was changing from his  
of perpetual glory. He realized that ultimately his pikachu spoke the  
truth; eventually he would have to one day stop, be the needs age,  
financial, or other factors. However, until the day Ash either  
couldn't set forth again, or simply lost the interest like Gary, Ash  
was determined to keep trying.

Ash replied he would accept that, if given forewarning, and  
pikachu stick with him through at least Evergrande, fighting with all  
its courage and determination until the end. Then, they could rest in  
Pallet for a while, after they had their own statue here. Was that  
deal acceptable? In response the pikachu hopped onto the ground and  
fired a harmless spark of electricity at the fountain, causing the  
water, and the statue to cracker and said 'pi,' in an affirmative  
tone. Pleased, he bent his hand down, to cemment this with a  
handshake.

Pikachu slapped its tail against his palm, and zapped him with  
the force of a handbuzzer. While Ash jumped backwards, Pikachu  
laughed innocently, and ran quickly back towards camp. Ash's response  
was to pull out Pikachu's empty pokeball, and threaten it, which was  
ineffectual against a creature who regarded the entire talk as  
finished, and desired a race. Sighing, and at first resigned to this,  
Ash hesitated considering staying, but hearing a couple of Noctowls  
howling in the distance, Ash's impatience took over and he took chase.  
His Pikachu beat him back to camp first where, only Brock was left  
awake, waiting with luke-warm tea.

Ash made it back, and told Brock that he had just scouted aheadfor the next day. Despite Brock's telling of his story earlier, he  
was still eager to retell it, and Ash only managed to relate a few of  
the details of the garden they'd left through Brock's desire to  
storytell himself. Pikachu at first listened to Ash's fruitless  
effort with amusement, and then slowly dozed off. Ash himself  
eventually gave up and suggested they talk in the morning, and Brock,  
horrified by Ash's pokegear, which read the time to be in the 23rd  
hour, agreed to listen tommorrow. But as Ash was drifting off Brock  
started to tell his story anyhow, a background lullabye for Ash's  
dreams. More patient and focused after the walk, Ash drifted off  
soundly, his last conscious thoughts were, "I wonder what  
retired champions do."

---- By Phalanx,

(Charizardpal,)

Thanks for reading. I'll dedicate this to the memory of Tim Jacks. I am relieved to have finally posted my first story/fanfiction online.

Comments? Send them to charizardpal (at) gmail (dot) com I write it that way so that bots wont get my email address. Please title any queries, etc with a subject expressing the contents of the email. I like knowing what the email is in response to before reading.


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